Written by: Bob Brumfield
Paradise
On a black sand beach
a crab scurries to its fate
the boil pot awaits
Fragrance
Mid flower petals
my love walked with gracious ease
a young man was I
A thought
A mule led to drink
stubborn is thirsty at wells
I learned to be quiet
Jester
A word spoken in haste
brought down a king and his queen
I am thought a fool
The far side of the hill
In verdure meadows
snails leave a glistining trail
I see the sun set